


He may seem friendly, but he is no friend of yours

by AnnaFay



Series: Don’t let him catch you looking scared [4]
Category: Padmaavat (2018)
Genre: Aftercare, Canon-Typical Behavior, Corporal Punishment, Extremely Dubious Consent, F/M, Power Imbalance, Shameless Smut, Smut, Sorry Not Sorry, Spanking, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-07
Updated: 2020-08-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 05:48:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25768441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnnaFay/pseuds/AnnaFay
Summary: I hope it taught you not to trust Kafur again.
Series: Don’t let him catch you looking scared [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1858198
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	He may seem friendly, but he is no friend of yours

“You should be whipped within an inch of your life.”

Although the Sultan’s voice was almost amused, Adyghe could feel her whole body tighten with fear.

“Yes, Sire,” said Kafur, and he sounded equally unfazed by the gathering storm.

Hadn’t he been already kneeling next to her, he surely would have ended up on the ground with the force of the blow, but he didn’t cry out. He didn’t even gasp as far as she could tell, only straightened himself with an involuntary sniff that suggested his nose had started bleeding.

Not wanting to break the ominous silence that followed with even as much as a whimper, she flattened her hand against the floor, willing the stone to open up and swallow her whole.

Even more so when the Sultan finally decided to step in front of her.

“And you…,” he said slowly, making her heart flutter against her ribs harder than his precious birds when frightened. “What should I do with  _ you? _ ”

She had no answer, let alone the voice to say it, so she kept her brows to the ground and shook her head. She should have known that it would not be enough.

“Look at me.”

Her eyes were dry when she sat back on her feet and raised them to meet his, but that quickly changed when he lifted his hand and caressed her face.

“Was it really you who came up with the idea?”

It was. 

After almost three years Chittai still refused to accept her fate and so it always cast a dark shadow over everyone whenever she was summoned by the Sultan. She never said a word, she never cried, but she needed neither words nor tears to remind Adyghe of how helpless and alone she felt after being taken from everything she had known and loved, and to make her slip out of the bath-house and try to convince Kafur to take someone else in her stead. Someone more willing.

_ “Who? You?” _ He had mocked her, and she should have known it to be a trap.

“Yes,” she whispered as the Sultan smeared away the tear she could no longer hold back with his thumb, and it made things even worse. It went on too long and was too gentle not to promise something wicked.

“Have you been whipped before?” he asked at last.

She could only nod, but that was enough.

He stood silently above her for a while, still playing with that single tear, then gave her a nod in return.

“Kafur,” he said without taking his eyes off her.

“Yes, Sire?” He perked up somewhere around the corner of her vision.

“Get me something that won’t break her skin.”

Kafur got to his feet right away, wiped his nose on his sleeve and walked over to one of the chests at the back of the room to open its lid and start rummaging in it, but as the Sultan stayed with her, she kept her eyes on him and him alone.

He kept on caressing her face a little longer, then stood back slowly, and she found his expression to be oddly calming. It filled her with a different, colder kind of fear. One that kept her limbs weak and her heart hammering, but one she could handle, because she knew that in the end things would be all right. 

She could take a beating and even thank him for it afterwards. On her knees too, if she had to. 

“Sire.” Kafur returned with a belt in his hand. His face was still smeared with blood, but alight with a barely suppressed smile.

The Sultan must have caught the way she looked at his servant, because he took the belt and wrapped it around his hand with a smirk. “You won’t fool her again,” he told him, then jerked his head towards the door.

She lowered her eyes as Karuf walked past her, then looked back up at the Sultan.

He didn’t have to tell her what to do.

She rose to her feet and followed him to the bed without a word, only a little slower than she normally would. He didn’t let her lie down, but at least he didn’t bend her over the headboard either. He had taken her that way before, and it had left her with bruises across the hips.

He made her face one of the carved pillars on the corner of the bed, then dropped the belt on the mattress and stepped closer to her. She dared to take only a single glance at it, because even though the leather looked soft, it was thick enough to make her avert hey eyes quickly.

She closed them too and held on to the pillar with trembling hands, as he brushed her hair to one side and flipped it over her shoulder.

There was no need for him to tear her dress, but he did it anyway; down to the waistline and without much effort, before pushing it off her shoulders. He didn’t let it fall though. He held it up so that she could step out of it and he could throw it to the side.

He took up the belt, but touched her back with the tip of his fingers and didn’t take them away, not even when she stepped closer to the pillar and steadied herself for the first blow.

It was the same menacingly gentle touch as before, and it sent a shiver down her spine. She had no way of telling if he had felt it too, but he followed it with his fingers. Down her back, down her waist, down across her backside.

He was considering where to hit her.

Knowing that it wouldn’t make much difference, she bowed her head slightly, and held on to the pillar tighter when he pulled his hand away.

She jerked her head back up with a painful hiss as the belt came down across her buttocks.

He was holding back, but not too much.

As the second blow followed before she even had the chance to catch her breath, she took it without a sound, but the third made her both scream and kick her knee against the pillar.

He worked in a steady rhythm and she soon lost count of the cuts. She just held on tight and took them as they kept on coming, sometimes uttering no more than a whimper, sometimes crying out loud.

She knew he wasn’t done yet when she felt his hand on the back of her neck, but she let out a long sigh when he dug his thumb into the muscle coming down to her shoulder and rubbed it. It was so tense it hurt almost as much as the marks of the belt, and she couldn’t help but moan as it finally started relaxing under his touch.

The sound she made when he pulled away was so pitiful she could hardly believe it came from her. It made him touch her again, stroke her hair like one would a scared animal before stepping away from her.

He let her prepare, and she needed it too.

He gave her three more cuts. Each of them was harder than the one before, each of them made her scream, and when he finally dropped the belt to the ground, she couldn’t help hanging her head with a relieved sob.

It was over.

Still, she couldn’t release her grip on the pillar; he had to pry her hands away from it and all but lift her off the ground when he started guiding her onto the bed.

“Please,” she whispered as he lowered her on it and caressed her side. She was too tired. She was too sore. She needed time. 

He hovered above her for a moment longer, then lay down beside her close enough for her to feel his breath on her skin and ran his hand up and down her back, only ever stopping to push a strand of hair out of its way. She loved it and relaxed into his touch with a sigh, closing her eyes and swallowing back her tears with a sniff.

Knowing that it wouldn’t be more than a moment of peace, she sniffed again and pressed her face against the sheet, refusing to feel anything but its smoothness and the warmth of his hand; wishing that somehow it would still last forever.

It didn’t.

Although his touch was still gentle, it brought her back to her senses when he ran his hand down her waist. She opened her eyes too when he caressed her hip, but decided to close them again as he reached the first welt.

He brushed his fingers across them one by one, and by the time he finally decided to rest his palm on her backside, she could feel her heart starting to tremble again.

“You took it well,” he said, rubbing her where it hurt the most.

She took a deep breath and let it out with a soft moan.

It didn’t stop him, and as he started going in circles around the same sore spot, she realised that she didn’t even want him to.

“I hope it taught you not to trust Kafur again.” He moved his hand to the twin of the bruise on the lower part of her other cheek, and the new sensation combined with the mention of that treacherous snake made her tense. He must have felt it too, but only acknowledged it with a soothing noise at the back of his throat. “He may seem friendly, but he is no friend of yours.”

“I know,” she said, and her voice was still thick with emotion.

“Good,” he murmured. 

She moaned again when he applied more force, but was thankful for it too. She didn’t want to talk about Kafur. She didn’t even want to think about him.

He didn’t want her to think about anyone else either.

She knew the single cut on the top of her left thigh would be the last to heal. That was the only one she didn’t want him to touch, and the only one he left alone when she flinched away from his hand to move to the other, unmarked thigh and nudge her legs apart instead.

There was a sound he made every time he found her wet for him, and it always made her even wetter.

His fingers slid inside her so easily it made her face burn, but she didn’t dwell on that for too long. Her body wanted pleasure after the pain, and she had learned a long time ago to listen to it, so she opened her legs a little further and let him in. Let him all the way in, then begged him for more; arching her back for him with a mewl.

She didn’t need to beg for too long.

Feeling suddenly too cold and alone when he left her side, she gathered the last of her strength and tucked her elbows under herself so that she could lift her head and look at him over her shoulder as he knelt between her legs. He took off his tunic and threw it to the side, but didn’t bother with his pants. As soon as they were out of the way, he leant back over her, held her down by the waist and buried himself inside her in one smooth motion.

He took her the very same way he had whipped her. He gave her no time to adjust, but held back enough so that he wouldn’t break her completely.

Caught between pleasure and pain each time he filled her and his hips collided with her backside, she closed her eyes, clenched her fists and welcomed every punishing thrust with moans so loud that by the time she had finally reached her peak, she had no more than a whimper left in her to let him know that he had set her world on fire.

He didn’t make much of a sound either when he came undone, but it travelled right to her core and made her sigh again. And again and again as he savoured every last moment inside her before finally pulling out and running his hands over her once more, feeling her welts, feeling the warmth of her reddened skin and opening her up to shamelessly admire what he had done to her.

Watching him dip his thumb inside her and smearing their juices across the lower part of her cheek as if to mark her even more profoundly as his own, she couldn’t help biting down at the inside of her lower lip.

“Don’t worry, I’m finished with you for tonight,” he said in a low voice. “Although I’d suggest you get out before I change my mind,” he added with a wicked grin and a smack on her backside.


End file.
